And they would march away in the dark, singing
to the beat of drums. It wasn't impressive, but what
else could the Colonel and the clergyman have said
or done? ...
Young officers were trained by efficient N.C.O.'s;
the senior officers were responsible for company
accounts, kit inspections, and other camp routine,
• and the spirit of the regiment, presumably, presided
over us all. I have reason to believe that Clitherland
was one of the most competently managed camps in
the country; high authorities looked upon it as
exemplary.
Needless to say, I felt awestruck by my surround-
ings as I edged my way shyly into mess on my first
evening. The cheerful crowd of junior officers sat at
two long tables which culminated in the one across
the top, which was occupied by the impressive
permanencies of whom I have been writing. Old
soldiers with South African, China, and even Ashanti
medal ribbons bustled in and out with plates.
Outside in the evening light among the subalterns
who waited for the Olympians to emerge from the
ante-room, I had spoken to no one. Next to me now
was a young man who talked too much and seemed
anxious to air his social eligibility. From the first I
felt that there was something amiss with him. And
he was, indeed, one of the most complete failures I
ever came across in the War. G. Vivian-Simpson
had joined the battalion two or three months before,
and for a time he was regarded as smart and promis-
ing. A bit of a bounder, perhaps, but thoroughly
keen and likely to become competent. He was known
among the young officers as "Pardon-me", which was
his characteristic utterance. Little by little poor
"Pardon-me" was found out by everyone. His social
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